Jealousy Burns
by clockworkviolinist
Summary: Sherlock isn't jealous. Oh no, he isn't. Or is he? Well, Molly Hooper moved on two months ago, to the most unlikely candidate- Mycroft Holmes. Nope. Still not jealous. Totally. Anyway, this does mean war. Brotherly war. Lots of fluff, slightly angst in later chapters, and SHERLOLLY goodness... or not?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello all! It's been ages, hasn't it. Do you even remember me? O.O Haha, anyway, here's a new story from me! Hopefully, you will enjoy it, and.. um... leave a review? So here it goes, enjoy Sherlock in all his jealous glory! :) Slightly humourish in the beginning, but I assure you, the fluff comes later. And some angst. I don't know, really. XD Have fun!

Jealousy Burns

Chapter One: Jealousy Burns.

Sherlock really couldn't take it anymore. He honestly couldn't.

He was so definitely going to scream if anything else of the sort happened. An unlikely thing to happen for Sherlock Holmes.

It really was a moment of terrible crisis.

The crisis was also horribly irritating. Not mention fat. And that said crisis aslo was related to him.

Yes, if Sherlock saw Mycroft Holmes and Molly Hooper exchange another overly soppy, unnecessarily romantic look between the two of them, he was going to.. he was going to.. scream.

Strangely enough, Sherlock actually seemed to_ miss _the shy pathologist's attention. She should be looking at HIM like that, not that pompous fool of a brother he had. Oh, he could feel the nausea building up inside him.

He glared at them viciously, but both of them seemed oblivious to his blatantly hostile looks at them.

Finally, in a last ditch attempt to save his face, he tried a classic method.

"Mycroft, get out, I'm working." Sherlock said, not taking his attention of the microscope that he was looking through, although he was listening rather carefully.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow from where he was sitting. "And why should you want me out? I am merely discussing important _matters _with Miss Hooper, and we are hardly shooting down walls during this discussion." the elder Holmes reasoned.

"You are, now get out."

"No we are not."

"Yes. You are."

"Sherlock, I think that we are far too old to be playing childish games like this." Mycroft sighed, seeing the petulant look on Sherlock's face.

"Well if only you weren't disturbing me-" Sherlock started, but Molly cut in.

"Sherlock, really, me and Mycroft aren't doing anything to disturb you. If you don't like it, then you can leave." she said, annoyed.

"That's it, I've had it!" Sherlock said, throwing up his hands before stomping out of the room is disgust.

Sherlock walked all the way back to Baker Street in a huff, walking into several people who were in his way.

Slamming the door of 221B open with a force loud enough to reach Africa, he yelled for John.

"John! Do we have any cases!" he asked as he walked upstairs. Best if he could find a case, take his mind off this ridiculous thing.

John looked up from his laptop, noting Sherlock's slightly murderous expression.

"No.. Why?" he asked.

"Why what? I always need a case, you of all people know that, John. Stop being so obtuse." Sherlock said, sitting in an sofa opposite the blogger.

"No, why are you in such a foul mood?"

"And why would it concern you?"

"Because I have to live with that black mood! So I can at least know the reason, right?" John reasoned.

Sherlock started to turn around on his sofa.

"Mycroft is being stupid again." he said grudgingly.

"Oh.. Isn't Mycroft dating Molly Hooper? Or was it.. that-"

"Yes! That is the problem! His stupid relationship is interfering with my-" Sherlock was cut of again for the second time that day, because John burst out in laughter.

"What? What on earth is so funny?" Sherlock demanded.

"You- you- ah-" John tried to form a sentence, but was swamped by a wave of laughter.

"John, I demand to know what is going on. Because it's absolutely not funny." Sherlock said seriously.

John attempted to speak yet again, but was convulsed with waves of laughter.

Irritated, Sherlock grabbed a glass of water and emptied it all over his friend.

Sputtering, John quickly sobered up.

"Sorry, Sherlock. It's just that.. well.. it really sounds as if you are.. well.. jealous." John chuckled.

Sherlock's expression was truly Oscar-worthy. His jaw hung open, and he stared at John. "What?" he finally managed to say.

"Nothing, just. yeah." John nodded solemnly.

"I.. I am hardly _jealous, _John. I merely am.. worried for the.. oh for god's sake, why am I explaining myself to you? I am not jealous, and that is final." Sherlock said, turning around to face the back of the sofa.

"Jealousy burns, Sherlock." John chuckled.

Sherlock glared at his best friend, and chucked a pillow into said friend's face.

He wasn't jealous.. Or was he?

A/N: Ooh.. I always love me some jealous Sherlock. Not that I see much of it. Anyway.

Hopefully, you guys liked it? Yes? No? Well, whatever, remember to leave a review! Please? Pretty please? XD Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2: Where It All Began

Jealousy Burns

Chapter Two: Where It All Began

A/N: Hello hello hello! :) Here is the second installment of Jealousy Burns! XD

Thanks so much to all the lovely people who reviewed: **Lost in Belgium, A Pirate By Any Other Name, i-Don't-Count, Zora Arian, CreativeChica39, Lady Nuit, Lady Osolone, saourise, Ssmill, Way Worse Than Scottish, thestarlitrose, The Ginger Midget, and Emily (guest)**

Hmm... Not many people seem to like that Molly is with Mycroft, but I assure you, I will try to make their relationship as believable as possible! XD Now, on to the next chapter, which explains how they got together.

Special thanks to** i-Don't-Count** ~aka~ Emily for being my awesome beta and friend. Everyone should read her story The Child of Zeus! Now, without any more of my silly rambling, let the story begin!

Enjoy...

**Christmas.**

"_How did Sherlock recognize her from... not her face?" _

_Mycroft Holmes looked up at the young pathologist. His eyes raked over her briefly, deducing that she was, in fact, in her late twenties, had a cat, and had an odd attraction to Sherlock. Pity._

"_Thank you, Miss Hooper." he smiled briefly, and walked out, the shy pathologist already halfway out of his mind._

**After the Reichenbach Fall.**

"Sir, the pathologist you requested from St Barts has arrived, with the files that you asked for." Anthea, Mycroft's personal secretary of nearly 5 years informed him, coming into his office with a cup of tea.

Mycroft quickly looked up from his seat, and gave Anthea a quick nod. "Send him in." Mycroft said tiredly, furrowing his brows. He was currently up to his neck in paperwork, and meeting with whiny prime ministers who apparently thought that he was their personal slave, to attend to their every whim. Well, he certainly put them into their place today, albeit the outcome was not going to be good.

"Oh, um.. hello." a decidedly feminine voice said from the doorway of his office. Mycroft looked up in surprise. A petite, brunette woman that looked oddly familiar was standing there, or rather, hovering, in the doorway of his office, her hands laced together anxiously.

"Would you have a seat, please, Miss-? I assume that you are the pathologist?" Mycroft asked.

"Molly Hooper. And yes, I am the pathologist. From St Barts." she said shyly, dropping into the seat opposite Mycroft.

"Indeed." Mycroft said, eyes widening slightly in surprise. Molly noticed that, and she immediately started stammering.

"Oh, I mean, you did want the pathologist, didn't you? I mean, I.. I work in the morgue, but there are the other a-aspects o-of pathology.. I just.. never mind." Stammered Molly, her face turning red.

"No, not at all, Miss Hooper. I was merely wondering how on earth a young woman like you would come to work in such a morbid aspect of human medicine. But after all, it does not really matter." shrugged Mycroft, sipping his tea.

"Oh.. W-well, many people think that.." Molly said, blushing awkwardly.

"I would suppose so." Mycroft gave a mirthless chuckle. He cleared his throat. "Well, now, Miss Hooper, do you happen to have the files that I requested for?

"Oh, yes. Here they are. James Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes." Molly said, handing them to Mycroft. "Sherlock was your... brother, wasn't he?" she asked, trying to make polite conversation.

"Most astute observation, Miss Hooper." remarked Mycroft somewhat sarcastically, opening the files. Molly immediately became silent, preferring to glance around at her surroundings rather than talk to the elder Mr Holmes.

Mycroft flicked through the files quickly. Pictures, medical records, they were all neatly arranged in chronological order. Miss Hooper had obviously been doing her work well.

"Moriarty is dead, correct?" Mycroft asked, leaning back in his chair casually, looking at Molly. He looked like a dangerous leopard getting ready to strike. The clam expression was merely a trick.

Molly nodded, seemingly unperturbed. "Yes, I did the autopsy myself, and I- I did Sherlock's autopsy as well, if- if you want to know."

"I don't."

"Well, anyway, I've told you." she said.

Mycroft put the files to one side of the table. "James Moriarty may be dead, but I am quite sure that my younger brother isn't. Now, Miss Hooper. How did you help him, and where is he now?" he asked calmly.

"He- he's dead." Molly stammered, her face going pale.

"Don't." Mycroft sighed with the patience of a saint. "Do not lie to me, Miss Hooper. I have endured your silly stammers and shyness long enough, you incompetent pathologist. I warn you, Miss Hooper. You do not want to cross me, or else the consequences will be.. dire. Where is my brother?" he demanded.

At that, Molly had enough.

"Just who do you think you are?" she suddenly burst out. Mycroft's expression grew incredulous.

"I've travelled all the way here to this horribly posh office, _blindfolded_. And in a strange car where I thought I was being kidnapped. I've just suffered a horrible investigation into my private life because I was under suspicion of being in league with your brother, and now I come here to be insulted by you. You- You're worse than Sherlock!" Molly raged. She got up, tears already filling her eyes, and fumbled for the door.

"Well, Miss Hooper, I assure you, I had no intention of insulting you." Mycroft said, looking slightly shell shocked at the shy woman's sudden outburst of fury.

"Oh, don't try that trick on me. It doesn't work anymore. And it's bloody Dr Hooper to you, Mr Holmes. " she said furiously, turning around to throw the final blow at Mycroft. Turning on her heel, she disappeared, leaving a frozen Mycroft.

Five minutes later, Anthea knocked on the door to find Mycroft in the same position. "Dr Hooper just left, sir. Is everything alright?" the dark haired secretary asked.

Mycroft immediately straightened up, and rearranged his features. "Perfectly alright, Anthea."

"Well then, should I bring in the next load of forms from the French ambassador?"

"No. I'm going out for a stroll. I think the oppressive office environment has finally gotten to me." Mycroft said, standing up and donning his coat.

"Very good, sir. You had better bring an umbrella, sir. It looks like rain." Anthea said, handing Mycroft his trademark umbrella. Mycroft grasped the smooth, familiar wood handle of his umbrella, and walked out of his office into the pouring rain.

::::::::

London on a rainy day was still quite normal, except that there were less pedestrians on the sidewalks, and everyone seemed to be hiding in cafes and shops. But it was alright if you were someone with an umbrella.

Mycroft observed the people on the street. Typical. Normal. Utterly boring. He thought back to his meeting with _Dr_ Hooper. She certainly wasn't one to be underestimated. No wonder Sherlock had entrusted his secret to her.

"Oh god." he heard a female voice say, that sounded like Molly Hooper. Mycroft turned around, to see the very woman herself, who had inconveniently seemed to have dropped the contents of her bag onto the sidewalk.

Mycroft watched her with an odd feeling as he saw her getting soaked to the bone. Passersby simply ignored her, another signal of how dire the manners of the world were becoming.

He hesitated.

Should he go over and offer the shelter of his large umbrella? Or should he walk away, and pretend nothing happened?

Chivalry won over, surprisingly, and Mycroft walked over to her, and he sheltered her with his umbrella. Molly looked up, surprised.

And she saw _who_ was holding up the umbrella for her.

"Oh. Mr Holmes." she said, blushing slightly as she stood up. "Thank you." Molly said, surprised.

"It's no matter." the cool and collected British Government replied.

"L-look, I'm really sorry for what I said to you just now, it's just that I-"

"Oh, it's of no consequence, Dr Hooper. I admit, I was not the most pleasant of people just now." said Mycroft quickly.

Molly broke out into a smile. "So, can we start over again?" she asked, holding out her hand in a gesture of friendship.

"Certainly."

And they both shook hands, a smile on the faces of both of them.

"Um, do you want to go into a cafe or something? It's probably warmer in there." suggested Molly.

Mycroft pondered it for a moment before accepting. "I believe I would be most glad to accept your invitation, Dr Hooper."

"Oh, just call me Molly." she smiled.

And they walked off together under the shade of Mycroft's large umbrella.

::::::::::

**A/N: Well... There you have it, my dear awesome people! XD Anyone like it? Anyone feel like reviewing? Please? I always am grateful for any constructive criticism offered! :) **


	3. Chapter 3: The Game is On!

A/N: Hello hello hello... :) Greetings to one and all! :) Sorry that I didn't update last week, I had homework, which is a horrible excuse, so sorry.

First of all, thank you very much to those who reviewed:

**A Pirate By Any Other Name, MadAsAHatterJayy, BlackButterflyPrincess, Zora Arian, Guest, Crayford Dresden, IvPayne, CreativeChica39, Lady Nuit, Lost In Belgium, 173'dliketobe167, miki, SomeoneNew86, and Myth Queen!**

You all get cookies! ;)

And now, on with the story!

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Chapter Three: It Begins.

_Present Time, Post Reichenbach. St Barts Hospital._

The next day, after the utterly embarrassing scene with Mycroft, Sherlock ventured back to the morgue, pretending that nothing had happened. He was cool, distant, and aloof, as usual, barely sparing Molly a single glance, except when she offered him coffee.

"Coffee, Sherlock?" she asked, none of the tremulous waver in her tone, but instead, she was literally radiating positive energy.

Sherlock glanced at her.

_New shade of lipstick, more pink than usual, trying to impress Mycroft on their date tonight, surprisingly co-ordinated outfit that compliments her figure, obviously gotten by Mycroft, different perfume, trying to be sophisticated... _he noted quickly as he nodded to her request.

Watching Molly as she almost literally skipped out of the morgue, Sherlock shook his head slightly. What was it about Mycroft that the women found so attractive?

Even when Sherlock was a teenager, he'd seen his brother bring home quite a few women, to show his mother. None of them stayed, to Sherlock's delight. Mycroft had appalling taste in women. Maybe that was what Molly and Mycroft had in common. Horrible taste in the opposite sex.

Sherlock shuddered, remembering some of the disastrous dates that had happened. More than once, Mycroft had come home, utterly humiliated. After the fourth failed date, Mycroft had become a sworn bachelor.

Still lost in his thoughts, Sherlock barely looked up when Molly came in, bearing two cups of steaming hot coffee. Even from the reasonable distance away, Sherlock could smell the strong black caffeine, and his mouth watered slightly.

"So, how is the.. experiment?" Molly asked, setting down the cups beside him.

Sherlock looked up at her, giving her a dazzling smile. _Time to turn on the charm.._ he decided. "It's going alright, Molly. Would you like to have a look?" he grinned.

Molly blushed, and nodded, moving over to peer into the microscope. "Are you.. splitting up the different hormones that stimulate.. love?" she asked, still blushing furiously, not daring to meet his eyes, but instead was tracing patterns on the stainless steel lab table.

"Yes, I am. Can you identify them?" he teased, stealthily putting his hand on her back. Somehow, he felt comfortable with touching her, like it was such a natural thing to do. He even thought that Molly relaxed into his hand.

She peered into the microscope once again, concentrating.

"Hmm... serotonin, norepinephrine, and.. dopamine." she said, after a few more moments consideration. She looked up to Sherlock, waiting for confirmation. Sherlock nodded his approval, grinning slightly. He suddenly felt giddy, for some reason, exactly like when he injected himself with cocaine. Interesting that Molly Hooper could elicit that kind of emotion from him.. Feeling the rush of recklessness and adrenaline suddenly take over him, he grew bolder, even daring to twine his fingers into Molly's hair as she examined the microscope some more.

She froze at the contact, and Sherlock could feel a shiver run through her, as she stiffened up.

"S-sherlock? What are you doing?" she asked, a slight tremble in her voice. But she didn't pull away, which Sherlock thought was a good sign. He didn't answer her, but merely continued twirling an errant curl from her hair.

"Yes, brother dear, _what are you doing?" _came the impeccably English tones of an irritated Mycroft Holmes_, _who was standing in the doorway, looking slightly murderous.

Molly jumped away quickly, blushing redder than a tomato.

"I-I-I I didn't- I never-" she began, stumbling pitifully on her words, and shaking her head frantically.

Mycroft soothed her, giving her a sincere smile. "No, my dear, I know you wouldn't start anything. But I think I would like a word with my _dear brother,_ outside." he said, the end of his sentence becoming a slight snarl.

Sherlock merely gave a condescending smile, and winked at Molly before following his brother out.

Mycroft led them to a secluded room, shutting and locking the door firmly behind them. Sherlock threw himself into a chair, looking for all the world like a petulant child that knows he had done something wrong, but does not regret it.

Mycroft seated himself opposite Sherlock, his face expressionless.

They sat like that in silence for some time, before Sherlock spoke.

"Oh hello, I've finally found the government's mute button, have I?" he asked cockily, trying to get a rise out of his brother. Childish, for sure, but it was too good an opportunity to miss.

"No, in fact, I am merely disappointed in you, my dear brother." Mycroft said, steepling his long, thin fingers together and frowning at Sherlock.

Sherlock had to admit, he did feel slightly guilty now at teasing Molly. Yet, he arched an eyebrow, daring his brother to go on.

"Sherlock, what on earth has possessed you to even try to destroy my relationship with Molly? If you are jealous, then why didn't you take her even before this? Or is it just because of me that you want to destroy everything that the both of us have?" Mycroft asked quietly, his gaze boring into Sherlock's head.

Sherlock didn't know how to answer that.

"Tell me, brother. We've kept up appearances long enough, that we hate each other, but we both know that it's not quite true. What is your motive this time?" Mycroft continued.

Sherlock rested his head on one arm.

"It's because I think she doesn't deserve you. You don't care about anything other than the country. You're the government, the man who has to look after the country's whims. If a building was on fire and thousands of innocent people were inside, including Molly, you would save them first. You can't care for her, Mycroft." Sherlock said.

Mycroft merely bowed his head, not even denying or acknowledging the the comment. Then realization hit him.

"Sherlock. Do you.. happen to like Molly?" he grinned mischievously.

Sherlock seemed slightly caught off balance.

"No. I just need my pathologist back. I can't work with her when she's too busy mooning about you." Sherlock said brusquely, brushing off the words with a flick of his hand.

"Then why on earth do you care so much about how I would treat her?" Mycroft challenged, knowing he had his brother in a tight spot.

Sherlock glared at his brother, trying to figure out what he was trying to get at.

None of them said a word, but Mycroft tapped his foot lightly, waiting for a response from the clearly irritated Sherlock.

Finally, Sherlock cracked.

"It's because I know I can damn well do a better job with her than what you can give her." said Sherlock in a steely tone.

Mycroft raised his eyebrow and said nothing, instead looking rather amused.

Sherlock relapsed into relative muteness, looking away from his brother on purpose. He silently berated himself for his outburst. Most uncharacteristic of him. He'd have to control any impulsive behaviour from now on, he told himself.

Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, Mycroft rose from his seat.

"Well, thank you, and sorry for taking your time. Good day." he said neutrally, walking for the door.

With a hand on the doorknob, he turned around. "Oh, and Sherlock. Do try to keep your hand off Molly. You forget, she doesn't belong to you."

Sherlock's blood boiled. _How dare his brother claim Molly so easily,_ thinking that Sherlock would just give up like that.

"Ah, and that's where you're wrong, _brother dear_." Sherlock said, voice dripping with sarcasm and enough venom to kill a snake.

"Oh?" was the only reply from the Ice Man.

"I will bet you that she will be mine before Midsummer's Eve." Sherlock heard himself say calmly.

Mycroft stiffened.

Sherlock smirked.

"Well,_ Sherlock. _We'll just have to see about that, won't we?" Mycroft said, wrenching open the door with unnecessary force.

Sherlock couldn't hold back a chuckle.

"Indeed. The game, brother, is on."

"I'll hold you to your word. Midsummer's Eve."Mycroft nodded solemnly.

"I'm sure you will."Sherlock said in a bored tone. "Jot it down in that little black book for yours."

"But Sherlock, remember." Mycroft said, just as he was about to leave. Sherlock gave no acknowledgement of the call.

"If I win, Molly Hooper is mine forever." Mycroft smirked, and waltzed off back to the lab, where for certain, a worried pathologist was sure to be, wondering what on earth was going on between the two brothers.

Sherlock stood up after his brother was gone, and went back to the lab to grab his coat, shooting his brother an evil look as he saw him. Then he walked out into the cold spring night, walking back to Baker Street.

He was going to need a plan, and a good one.

And who better to ask than Dr John Watson?

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A/N: Phew! The competition just started getting hotter, didn't it? So now Sherlock's gone to ask John for advice. I wonder what's going to happen next... :)

Please do review! Reviews make me happy!

Love to all of you, and sorry for keeping you waiting so long for this elusive chapter. Hopeully I can get the next one up next week. Fingers crossed! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Jealousy Burns

A/N: Hello, hello! :) Wow, I can't believe how many good responses this has gotten! Thank you all so much! It's such a pleasant surprise :)

Anyway, thank you so much to those who reviewed:

IAmSherlocked123, Aviatress, starshortcake, britishgeek77, Pergjithshme, Myth Queen, ScarletStarlet62, shepweir always, A Pirate By Any Other Name, CreativeChica39, Lilli1000, SammyKatz, whytejigsaw, magicstrikes, MadAsAHatterJayy, lostmypen120, Empress of Versace, Lady Nuit, Ssmill, and last but not least, Guest! :D

I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!

As to the question many of you have asked... whether Mycroft or Sherlock will end up with Molly.. You all shall have to vote! Actually, I'm pretty cool with either of them ending up with Molly, but I want to know what YOU GUYS think. Mhmm, I know it's supposed to be a Sherlolly story. But. But. We shall seee XD

I'm putting a poll on my profile for it, so I would really appreciate it if you guys votedddd! Come onnnn XD

So sorry for this ridiculously long author's note. On with the story! :)

Chapter Four: Some Doctor's Advice...

_Present Time, Post Reichenbach, Baker Street._

Sherlock went back to Baker Street in a bad mood for the second time that week. Mycroft was a real pain in the arse, sometimes. Perhaps he really should ask the opinion of a real relationship expert...

And of course, who better to ask than Dr John Watson, relationship extraordinaire? Sure, he might have had his share of failed relationships, but you had to admit, the good doctor did have some sort of charm that the ladies definitely could not resist...

Sherlock grinned, stomping up the stairs to his shared flat, only stopping to say a quick hello to Mrs Hudson, who was complaining about Sherlock's last experiment again. "Sorry, Mrs Hudson. I'll deal with it later!" he yelled as he went up the stairs, three steps at a time.

"John? John?" he asked, bursting into the room, expecting to see John watching some silly television show, or blogging, or looking at inappropriate pictures on his computer, at least.

But no one was there. It was cold and quiet inside the room, and there weren't any lights on, which was rather surprising.

Sherlock glanced around the room.

_Bottle of cologne on the mantelpiece, next to the skull. Going somewhere posh, or else trying to impress someone. Several ties hanging on the arm of a chair. He was obviously going somewhere impressive, or expensive, thus taking deliberation in picking out his attire. Scuffed up walking shoes left behind the door. he was wearing his dress shoes tonight, most likely on a date, if so. _

_Conclusion: John was on a date._

Sherlock scowled, vaguely remembering something John had said to him this morning about going out tonight. He hadn't really paid much attention to anything John had said, because he was too busy thinking about the Molly Problem, as he dubbed it.

Immediately, he took up his phone, and typed out a message to John.

_John, important case now. Need your help. Come, regardless of what you are doing. this is at least a level 5. -SH._

If Sherlock ever felt guilty because of tricking John, he certainly wasn't feeling it now. For goodness sake, he never understood why John had to go on so many ridiculous dates anyway. It wasn't even if he was going to marry one of them, for that matter. John was too much of a bachelor for that.

So he waited.

OoOoOoOoO

John was casually laughing at a joke his date had told him. This woman opposite him, was truly remarkable. She was smart, brave, and unafraid of what the world had to hold, something he truly admired in a woman. And best of all, she never seemed annoyed, even though he had been called out of their dates for so many times. She had merely shrugged her shoulders, and smiled. _Another time. _she always said, giving him a comradely grin, and waving off his apologies. This time, he wanted the date to be absolutely perfect.

Miss Mary Morstan was a journalist at the BBC, working at the foreign journalist section. They had met during another of Sherlock's cases, when mysterious packages began turning up at her house. The case had been solved, and each gained something. Sherlock had relieved his boredom, John had found his ideal woman, and Mary Morstan might be falling in love.

John winced as his phone buzzed on the table loudly, disturbing the peaceful silence that he and Mary had been having, merely sipping wine and enjoying the other's silence.He tried to ignore it, and picked it up, to shove it in his pocket, but Mary interrupted him.

"Who is it?" she asked, nonchalantly sipping her wine while gazing pointedly at the phone's screen.

John glanced quickly down at it. "Oh, it's just Sherlock, ignore him." he said, trying to put on a smile.

"John, we've discussed this. I don't mind if you go off with Sherlock on a case, as long as you tell me what went on afterwards.. I always love a good story." she smiled, a small smile. John knew she was faking it.

"Mary, I know this is-" John said, opening his message.

"John, so.. I guess I'll see you another time, then?" she said, gathering up her things and standing up.

John nodded mutely, standing up as well. "Look, Mary, I'm really sorry that our date was interrupted again, I- I'll make it up to you sometime." he said.

Mary had already walked some way away.

"Oh, John. I know you mean well, but please don't try to make promises you can't keep." she said, and gave him a brave smile before walking out.

John sighed, and texted Sherlock back. Sherlock had better have a good reason for doing this, or he was going to borrow a leaf out of Moriarty's book and skin him alive. And make him into a leather jacket.

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Sherlock was standing calmly at the window when John barged into their shared living quarters.

" Ah, John." he said, barely bothering to turn around.

"What the hell is going on?" John demanded, slamming down his wallet onto a nearby table.

"No need to raise your voice, John, I merely need your help in a simple problem." Sherlock said coolly, lowering himself into a chair.

"Oh yes, and you bloody well need to do it when I'm on a date with Mary, right? Sherlock, this is the fifth time you've done this, and it has to stop."

"John, I see no reason why you have to involve yourself in these useless affairs of the heart. Honestly, you'll only ever end up dining, wining and bedding them before both of you call it quits." Sherlock rolled his eyes, propping his feet up on the armchair irritably.

"And I wonder who's fault that is." said John quietly, shaking his head slightly at his uncaring flatmate.

Sherlock felt the slightest twinge of regret, but he quickly brushed it away.

"Nonsense, John. You know I'm right. I'm merely saving you the effort and time of going through another emotional mourning period." he said.

"But you know Mary! Sherlock, this time I really think she might be my wife someday if only you would stop interfering!" John said, exasperated.

"I'm sure." was the cold and uncaring reply.

John resisted the urge to say or throw something at Sherlock's head, but he kept it all in, and tried to take deep breaths. "So, what is this case about?" he sighed, sinking into a chair opposite Sherlock.

Sherlock grinned slightly and steepled his fingers. "It's the case of Miss Molly Hooper." he said calmly.

John snorted. "What, you're still not happy about her and your brother dating?"

"No, but Mycroft and I have some sort of competition going on. To see who can win Molly's attentions before Midsummer's Eve."

John looked genuinely mad. "You called me back from a date so that I could help you win your stupid bet with your brother?"

Sherlock merely looked innocently at him.

"Yes." he replied.

"Sherlock, you can't keep toying with her emotions like this. She's been through enough heartbreak, with you. Why can't you just let her and your brother be happy?" asked John.

"John, you don't know my brother. He will sacrifice her for his country, make her into some sort of prize wife, and altogether, bore her to death. I'm merely trying to help her." shrugged Sherlock nonchalantly.

"Well then, Sherlock, this isn't the way to do it. Molly wouldn't be pleased that you're trying to break her up with Mycroft, I mean, look at what happened the last time with Jim, for goodness sake!" John groaned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"John, please. I need your help in this." Sherlock stated, giving John a serious look.

John gave a huge sigh, staring into the depths of the fire that was in the fireplace.

" Sherlock, I can't do anything to help you. If you really want to do this, then I think you'll have to do it yourself. I want no part in this so called 'competition' of yours. Have fun sorting out your odd life." John said, getting up from his seat to grab his coat.

"You mean, you aren't going to help me?" said Sherlock with a horrified look on his face.

"No, I'm going to let you sort this out yourself. Have fun." John said, and left, most probably to go and see Mary.

Sherlock just stared at the door in slight disbelief as the door swung shut, leaving him alone in the flat again.

Well, that department had been no help. So Sherlock was going to have to take this challenge on his own. A challenge which he was all too eager to undertake.

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A/N: Aha, so Sherlock is on his own now. Sorry for the slow update, guys. But thank you for all your reviews! They make me happy! I'll be setting up a poll on my profile, soooo.. vote? And review, please! I love you guys! XD

xoxo,

faeryenchanter.


	5. Chapter 5: The First Challenge

Jealousy Burns

A/N: Hai again everyone! :D Thank you to the people who did vote on my poll, and to those who reviewed, namely the lovely:

animefan0000012345, shepweir always, .54, britishgeek77, Aviatress, A Pirate By Any Other Name, i-Don't-Count, Myth Queen, SammyKatz, Empress of Verace, magicstrikes, Crayford Dresden, and the wonderful Guest! :D

Also, big thanks to anyone who favorited or is following this story!

And now, on with the story!

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Chapter Four: The First Challenge.

Molly stood in her flat, completely surrounded by roses. They were everywhere, and in every colour. Not the cheap ones, mind you. They were real quality roses that must have cost a hell of a lot of money, if Molly was not mistaken.

"Oh god, Mycroft." she said, reading the card that he had left behind.

_Dearest Molly._

_Hopefully you'll agree when I ask you if roses are your favorite. I myself am partial to them, but they definitely do not compare to your own beauty. _

_Have a lovely day, darling. _

_x_

_Mycroft. _

She had to admit, he was such a lovely person, sending her flowers. Usually her boyfriends would show up with a wilted posy for their first dates, insisting that she keep it in some cracked vase that they had bought as well, thinking that it would 'go well with her house'. She hated those people, and anyway, those dates never lasted too long before they broke up, because those kind of men only wanted to get into her pants.

But she told herself not to think about that right now, for Mycroft was a nice person, and he would never do that to her.

So, feeling slightly more comforted, she stuck a rose in her hair, behind her ear, and went off to make breakfast.

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Sherlock checked his appearance in the mirror at Baker Street yet again, and re-tied his tie, making sure it was particularly straight. Then he paced up and down inside the room, making John irritated.

"For god's sake, Sherlock, what on earth are you doing?" John asked, trying to read the newspapers.

"I'm waiting for 10'o clock to come round." was the brusque answer that was given, as Sherlock continued pacing.

"What on earth is at 10?" John asked, his head turning from side to side to keep up with his fast-moving flatmate, and getting rather dizzy. "And do stop pacing around. It's quite irritating." he complained.

"I'm going to the morgue at 10."

Now this answer surprised John. "Why wait until 10? You usually barge in anyway, so why wait now?" he asked.

"Because of the challenge I told you about yesterday, the one you wouldn't help me with, remember?" Sherlock said, turning around as he walked.

John furrowed his eyebrows. "You were serious about that?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "Sherlock, human emotions are not a game. Especially Molly's. Don't you think she's been put through enough of your twisted ways already?"

"It doesn't matter. It's merely a trifle to get back at my brother." Sherlock said, waving John off.

"It goes against every moral code in the world, Sherlock!"

"Doesn't matter. Moral codes are merely guidelines, rules for the weak."

"What on earth is wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

They stared at each other in silence for awhile, neither speaking. John was absolutely furious, and Sherlock looked calm and collected. No, no problems or guilt for the consulting detective at all.

"I'm having nothing to do with this. I know nothing whatsoever about this bet. Leave me out of it, Sherlock." John said, and walked out of the room, leaving a slightly confused Sherlock.

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Mycroft smiled as his phone rang, and he saw the message that Molly had sent him, which was short, but sweet.

_The roses were a bit too much, don't you think? But I'm flattered anyway. Have a lovely day, darling. _

_x_

_Molly. _

So everything was going to plan, at least for now. Now, if only Sherlock wouldn't get her in the way...

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"Ah, Molly. Happy birthday." Sherlock said, walking into the morgue. He held his hands behind his back, clearly holding something.

"It's.. not my birthday." the pathologist said, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh well. I thought you might like these." Sherlock said, shrugging his shoulders and holding out a bunch of lavenders.

Molly looked at his face, which was the perfect touch of innocence and charm. He even looked like a small boy, with the 'holding out flowers oh so innocently' look.

"W-whatever you're doing, Sherlock, it's not working." she said, with a slight stammer.

"I'm not, I just came to apologize for yesterday." he said, continuing to smile, which unnerved Molly quite a bit.

"How did you know I liked lavender?" Molly asked suspiciously.

"Just a wild guess." Sherlock grinned, going over to sit at a lab table.

"The great Sherlock Holmes rarely guesses." Molly teased.

"Alright, I could tell because you always have the scent of-"

"Lavender water. Of course." Molly smiled.

"Exactly." Sherlock smiled in response, giving her the flowers.

An awkward silence issued, and they merely looked sheepishly away, both having nothing to say.

"Will you go out for lunch with me, then?" Sherlock finally asked, looking up.

Molly blushed and stammered: "No.. I- I'm having lunch with Mycroft then.. Sorry."

And in a flash, Sherlock was gone.

"What in the world..?" Molly asked herself, but then brushed it away, going to get some files.

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Sherlock went back to Baker Street yet again, sorely upset.

_Damnit. Foiled again by my pretentious brother. _he thought, hands in pockets, walking back to his flat. _I'll just have to be faster next time, won't I? _

So he decided on another plan of action. This time, more drastic measures would have to be taken.

Sherlock Holmes had to win this bet.

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_Is Sherlock alright? He doesn't seem himself today. -xMolly._

_What did he do this time, darling? -xMycroft._

_He.. gave me flowers. And he was actually nice today. -xMolly. _

_Now that is strange. Did he do anything else? -xMycroft._

_No.. -xMolly._

_Oh. Well, then I would't worry about it too much, love. -xMycroft_

_Oh. Wait, he did runaway when I told him that you were taking me out for lunch. -xMolly_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_I'll talk to him about this. -xMycroft. _

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Sherlock grinned when his phone buzzed, indicating that a text message had arrived.

He unlocked his phone eagerly, and looked at it, then let out a short burst of laughter, which surprised himself. The message read:

_Whatever you're playing, leave Molly alone. She worries about your health. -MH_

_No, I will not. Does she now? -SH_

_Yes. -MH_

_She clearly thinks about me more, does she not? -SH_

_Sherlock, I'm warning you. Whatever I said about any betting the other day was merely a joke. Stop it. Now. -MH_

_Too bad, big brother, you started this. I'm merely playing along. -SH_

_Stop it. -MH_

_I wish I could. But the events of a plan have already been set in motion... ;) -SH_

_Stop it, Sherlock, you're scaring me as well, and I do not scare easily. -MH_

_See you on the battlefield. -SH_

Then Sherlock threw his phone to the side and grabbed his violin, ignoring the phone's buzzing.

Sherlock Holmes never went back on his word.

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A/N: Phew! The competition heats up, does it not? BTW did anyone watch SKYFALL? asjhdfgkjasgfdkasf OMG BEST MOVIE EVERRRRRR. Q is so adorable. But enough of my ramblings. Thanks to everyone reading this, and _DON'T FORGET TO REVIEWWWW! _

_love. _


	6. Chapter 6: Yes, it is my birthday 1

Jealousy Burns.

A/N: Well. Yes. I know this is terribly overdue, but here it is anyway! XD

Yes, I know I've been a bad, bad author. BUT, here is a chapter to hopefully make up for my very long absence! :DDD

Once again, thank you to all the lovely, awesome reviewers and subscribers [there's waaaaay too many of you awesome ones to mention you all!]

AND COOKIES FOR EVERYONE.

Also, big thanks to CandyGirl999, for giving me the idea to kickstart this chapter! :)

Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me, except for the ideas! :D

Chapter 6: Yes, today IS my birthday. { part 1 }

3 weeks later.

Molly woke up earlier than usual on this day, reveling in the sunshine pouring in through her bedroom window. It was actually her real birthday today, and she had plans with Mycroft, which involved the seaside, lots of champagne, and plenty of swimming. Hopefully Sherlock wouldn't come and interfere in anything, though.

Come to think of it, Sherlock had been behaving rather oddly of late. Sending strange, but rather quirky pieces of poetry to her morgue. Actually saying nice things to her, and at a rather frequent pace. He even stayed at the morgue late with her sometimes, helping her with her paperwork, and getting things done faster than she ever could have done. Well, it wasn't that she didn't like having his attentions- and lord knows the paperwork got done at least 10 times faster with him around. But, Molly was in a fully committed relationship, and she didn't like the idea of getting too close to any male right now. Especially her former flame. And what Sherlock did sometimes was, she admitted to herself, slightly too much.

When they were alone in the morgue at night, and Molly was bending over a microscope, trying to get a further look at something, he would always be right beside her, with a casual hand on her spine, not too far up as to be uncomfortable, and not too far down her spine either. But whatever it was, she still didn't feel as if she should be doing this, regardless of the shivers that went up her spine whenever they touched. And oh, let's not mention the intensity of his gazes now, whenever she gave a report about a corpse. It made her feel both scared and yet, brave.

And dates. Let's not even mention them for goodness sake. Somehow, on every date Mycroft and her had been on in the past three weeks, Sherlock had managed to crash it spectacularly, by interrupting every single one of them. She remembered a particularly strange one-

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It was a particularly fine summer's night, and Mycroft had decided to bring her stargazing, and he had planned out everything. He had requested a whole expanse of field and Greenwich to be roped off for his personal use, and he had everything set out perfectly, to the last minute detail. The champagne. The exquisite strawberries and cream. The fluffiest and thickest blanket she had ever seen in her entire life- she could practically drown in it, for goodness sake, and of course, himself.

So now they were lying down on the massive blanket, staring at the stars. Occasionally, Mycroft would point out a lovely star formation, and whisper its story in her ear, one that reminded her strongly of the stories her father used to tell her when she was younger. She snuggled up next to Mycroft, his arm covering her protectively. Now this she could get used to...

"I'm sorry to interrupt your cosy little gathering, but this is a crime scene." came those refined and all too familiar tones. Molly and Mycroft both sat bolt upright, twisting around to see who it was.

Standing there with a smug smile on his face, Sherlock stood there, with John beside him, with a rather sheepish and uncomfortable expression on his face, while shuffling around on both feet simultaneously.

"Sorry. He's a bit ah- restless today." John apologized for his friend, giving Sherlock a scowl. "I told him to leave you two alone." he shrugged.

"Yes, so now, leave. I need complete silence to work on this case." Sherlock said, waving his hand in their direction.

"Excuse me-" Molly started, but was cut off by a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Come, my dear. Since my brother so evidently wishes it, we shall leave, and I'll take you somewhere else to enjoy the rest of our evening." Mycroft said in a neutral tone, his eyes flashing darkly at his brother.

So Molly was forced to leave, with Sherlock still maintaining his smug smile, and even waving a cheery goodbye to them.

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Molly shook her head sadly. What on earth was Sherlock up to?

But anyway, for today, she was going to enjoy herself. and have fun.

The moment she hopped out of bed, the fresh scent of flowers greeted her. Flowers? How odd. She couldn't remember putting out any fresh flowers on the little table she reserved for them, and the scent was far too strong to be just a few flowers on the table.

She pulled on a dressing gown- an old, worn thing that she had worn forever and a day. One of the sleeves had a hole in it and she felt the cold keenly through that sleeve. But in any case, it didn't stop her from opening her bedroom door and gasping at the beautiful sight that lay within.

Her living room was absolutely flooded with rose petals. They adorned her sofa, her couch, her tables, everywhere! There was only one colour there, however. A rich, dark red that reminded her of rubies.

She smiled and twirled in the petals like a little girl, picking up a few and scattering them on her hair, making her look like some star-kissed Aphrodite. Only when she bumped into a table did she realize who the flowers were from. On the table lay a note and a black velvet box. Burning with curiosity, she opened the note first, which was sealed with a fancy red seal that looked particularly opulent. She already had a fairly good idea on who this mysterious person might be, and her suspicions were confirmed as to who it was when she opened the letter, although the contents itself rather disappointed her.

Dearest Molly, [the letter ran]

Happy 28th birthday, my love! I hope that you will have a wonderful year ahead of you.

I know that we did make plans to spend your special day with you, but unforeseen business with the French government has detained me at work. I enclose a thousand pound shopping voucher in the envelope to treat yourself (and perhaps a friend of your choice) wherever you want.

Till the next time, I remain, yours,

Mycroft.

Molly visibly deflated. She had been looking forwards to their little outing. In a fit of anger, she ripped up the offending voucher into four neat quarters, and stomped into the bathroom, intending to run a relaxing bubble bath.

Who did Mycroft think he was, standing her up like this? And he had the gall to think that everything would be solved with a thousand pound voucher. Did he really think she was so shallow? Apparently so. her mind told her, pouring in more bubble bath than necessary into her bath. The lavender scent did calm her down, like it always did. Soon, all her thoughts were focused on how she was going to fill up her time today. She decided to treat herself to a movie, and perhaps an expensive lunch, before buying herself a few books and settling down to a quiet evening at home.

She got out of the bath and pulled out her prettiest dress, which she usually saved for special occasions, and twirled around in front of the mirror, giggling as the dress billowed out beautifully.

ding dong...

Molly's eyebrows furrowed as she imagined who might be waiting outside the door. Just my luck, she grumbled, as she flung open the door.

"Yes, you needed something?" she asked rather sharply, only to be met with a cool, green-eyed stare that towered over her.

"I don't need something. I wanted to ask something." he leaned casually on the frame of the door. Molly swallowed hard, her palms sweating. Sherlock Holmes in a leather jacket? Was this a dream? And if it was, could she never wake up?

"Of course, S-sherlock. Anything. What do you want?" she stammered, already feeling quite uncomfortable.

"I heard that Mycroft wasn't able to fulfill his duties as a boyfriend, so I thought that perhaps I would help you celebrate your birthday properly?" he said casually. 'Or did you perhaps have other plans?'

Sherlock actually knew that she didn't have any other plans. He was just being polite.

Molly shook her head, not daring to let her mouth speak.

"Well then, let's head off then. The place we're visiting is extremely time sensitive." he said, and she could only dumbly follow him downstairs after grabbing her small handbag.

So that was how Molly Hooper found herself speeding away on a motorcycle with a leather-jacket clad Sherlock Holmes, wondering what on earth had she done to deserve such a birthday present.

A/N:

And this is merely part 1, folks! Wish me luck for my checkpoint exam (which is next week, yikesssss!) I really need the luck.

Love,

Kwan Ann.


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